


A Rose For Sam

by EverythingHurtsAndImDying



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Awkward!Sam, Crack, Florist!Lucifer, I like putting Sam in awkward situations, M/M, Sam has a voice in his head, Sam-Centric, and it speaks Japanese, embarrassed!Sam, my attempt at humour, student!Sam, what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythingHurtsAndImDying/pseuds/EverythingHurtsAndImDying
Summary: Sam Winchester, being the grade A lawyer that he is, is drowning in work and doesn't realise it's mother's day until his big bro has the courtesy to remind him.Will Mary Winchester get the mother's day gift she so truly desires? Or will Sam show up empty handed?Well, what are you waiting for? Read to find the answers to the most crucial question of the century.





	A Rose For Sam

**_..._ **

_Baby, I compare you to a kiss from the rose on the grey_

**...**

 

 

_Fucking pollen_.

 

Now Sam was generally indifferent to flowers; he could admire the aesthetic and the emotional value surrounding them, but he couldn't stand them in large quantities, especially in confined spaces. Pollen is literally plant sperm and Sam did not appreciate being sexually harassed. He didn't even have hayfever, he just didn't like how it made the air smell of freshness and dust in the most confusingly contrasting way possible. It also caked his nose and make him uncomfortable and Sam, being the white-privileged male he was, tried to avoid discomfort at all costs. 

 

But unfortunately, he had spent all his time buried in the endless files of a  particularly nasty case and his perception of time had been next to nonexistent until, at an unchuckly hour, his _totally-100%-straight_ brother had sent him a troublesome text. 

 

" _What have you got mom for Mother's Day_?" 

 

He'd cursed his older brother under his breath; a little part of him had believed that if he didn't remember the monumental day was arriving, it might not happen and he could go back to needlessly regretting his decision to become a lawyer and his research into secluded monasteries in Tibet. Except now he had been alerted, the Earth began to rotate once again and he had no idea what to get his mother. Chocolate had been the first idea to pop into his head - _how original_ \- until Dean sent another text reporting that he and his eye-sex buddy were going to make Mary a pie. An unhealthy obsession with pie seemed to be weaved into the DNA of the Winchester family although Sam found himself much more able to resist, as oppose to his squirrel sibling who would almost choke on drool just hearing the word pie – a Pavlovian response that was moderately worrying.

 

After a couple more texts, involving a bad pun and Dean picturing Sam's classic bitchface, it was suggested that Sam get flowers. He had been opposed to the idea to begin but with little else in mind, flowers had been the final resolution.  

 

And that, ladies and Satanic worshippers, is how we find ourselves watching over Sam in a compact flower shop, using his awkward moose body to avoid wrecking beautiful bouquets under the amused gaze of a scruffy haired blonde who's _totally_ not Satan.  

 

 

**...**

 

 

The gentle jingle of a rusty bell went ignored by the one who had triggered it as he clambered into the shop, having to duck down to avoid the top of the door frame. The Sasquatch was too distraught over the wall of plant sperm that had slapped his face like a pimp hand to pay any heed to the pleasant chime. Instead, he grumbled to himself like an old man - _these darn flowers stealing all our_ _jerbs_ _!_ \- and wrinkled his nose as he took in the unfamiliar environment. The florist was rather generic looking for how important it would come to be; pink walls scuffed with dirt were covered by endless rows of light wooden shelves, green skirting boards outlined the L shape of the store and, naturally, the place was blooming with flowers. Bouquets of all varieties were stuffed in any possible place which left a few narrow walkway in which customers would have to duck and dodge the occasional stalk or leaf that stretched out from the plastic wrapping or ceramic plant pot. To add to the obstacle course, – clearly inspired by Total Wipeout – bird cages of numerous different sizes and colours hung from the chipped ceiling to really give the customer the full claustrophobic experience. The place was uninhabited, minus the outline of a man at the counter and Sam found himself grateful for the privacy as he wriggled his way through the columns of plants, unsure of what looked good and what was appropriate to get for his mother.

 

Sam spent a good 20 minutes shuffling awkwardly between rows until a voice called out, a saviour. "Are you ok back there?" The voice was rough and husky but offered a gentle amused tone to it; it was clear the guy knew Sam was not 'ok back there'. Winchester pride was something to be revelled at and Sam's was no exception in the family, however, given the guy had absolutely no knowledge of flower arrangements, defeated washed over him with a sigh and he stumbled towards the counter.

 

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just wondering if you knew-" He froze whilst in the middle of gently pushing an outreaching plant stalk from his face to bask in the glory of the man tucked behind the counter.

 

_Hothothohothothothothot_. 

 

The guy looked to be in his late 30's, evident by the slightly discernible crows feet that were a result of his mildly patronising smile – the one cashier's give to awkward customers – and the 5 o'clock shadow covering his jaw that looked capable of slicing bread. He was moderately well built and donned a khaki green apron covering a short sleeved black shirt and what looked to be a pair of casual blue jeans. All of his clothing was splattered with dirt, even his face had a smudge of soil across his left cheek and a dab on his forehead. 

 

Sam dropped his hands and, whilst fighting the urge to surge forward and wipe the dirt from the strangers face, he started, "Yeah, I wa-" 

 

_Thwack_. 

 

A thicc as fuck, vivid green stalk had swung right into his face. Sam could only stand with a dejected look of defeat on his face as heat and red rose up the back of his neck and painted his cheeks. The plant remained in his face while the brunette watched as the amused look on the blonde's face grew, grin growing wider and his eyes sparkled with restrained mirth.  

 

" _At least you made him smile_." A chipper voice chirped in the back of his head and _Chuck_ , was it a nice smile – a little bit feral and there was something akin to mockery clear in the tight and kissable lips – but it was a still a darn nice smile.  

 

With a heavy sigh of fatigue, the giant ducked under the plant while a little voice whispered that he should buy the damn thing just to burn it out of vengeance. After throwing the dastardly daffodil a vindictive glare as it mockingly glowed yellow in all its glory and douchebaggery, Sam turned back to the man at the counter who held a concerned look. " _Great, now he probably thinks you're crazy. Which you are if you're hearing voices... Man, you should probably get yourself checked out_." 

 

"Yeah," He continued with a dismissive wave of his hand, praying to all that is Holy that the heat on his face was just from the heat and closeness of the room and that he wasn't still blushing like a little Japanese school girl seeing her Senpai. "I'm looking for a bouquet for my mom for mother's day and, if I'm honest, I have no clue what to get."  

 

The man concentrated, seemingly absorbing the information given to him while his eyes stared with great intensity at Sam before something clicked in his head and a toothy grin spread across his face. "An arrangement of spring flowers would work nicely." He offered before slipping around the wooden counter, sliding past the taller man with great ease and strolling down the isle, head sweeping from side to side as he searched.  

 

Sam watched with eyebrows raised at the florist's elegance, he was like a panther; his posture was cool and casual but he walked with a calculating and purposeful edge. He emanated confidence and that left Sam feeling a little insecure, sagging his shoulders as if to lose some of his height and look less like a moose. The blonde stopped, bringing a slender finger to his lips and tugging at the skin for a moment as he concentrated on one particular vase – he looked to be staring a hole into the poor thing. Then that same stare fell upon Sam. An involuntarily shivered crept down his spine at the intensity and the freaking bastard flashed a hungry smile before turning back to the flowers, picking them up with ease and forthwith returning to the counter with the same grace displayed previously. 

 

_Ok, that was a little creepy_. 

 

The bouquet that the blue-eyed man had placed on the counter was one that Sam must have overlooked. The flowers stood, stalks bare in a glass vase moulded with symmetrical patterns. Red carnations and pink gerberas seemed to take most of the attention, however, Sam felt that the with the lavender Waxflowers and tulips really helped to add dimension to the bouquet. But what did he know? The guy could have thrown shit in a vase and covered it in glitter and he would have probably been convinced into buying it. He'd surprised himself by knowing the name of the flowers. 

 

Hazel eyes met piercing blue after Sam had finished admiring the flowers. He felt pinned down, unable to open his mouth and break the awkward silence as the blonde peered at him as though he was reading his very soul.  

 

Naturally, it was the florist who broke the silence. "Thoughts?" He inquired in a neutral tone and his eyes fell down to the flowers, which left the taller man feeling grateful. There was something remarkably eternal in those eyes that drew Sam in, gripped him with brutish strength and forced him to gawp back. He really was acting like a hormonal 13-year-old girl.  

 

"Uh, I, uh, yeah. I think so." He murmured quietly, blushing once again in embarrassment. After clearing his throat, he tried once more, hoping to sound more confident. "Yeah, these are great. Thanks." He added a small smile to his façade.  

 

But, of course, because Sam has the luck of a man born on Friday 13th who lived under a ladder with 666 black cats, the stranger saw right through his act. "You aren't au fait with flowers at all, are you?" It was more of a statement than a question, littered with a hint of sympathy that caused a lump in Sam's throat. It was either that or the way that he spoke French that made him choke up. " _You want him to paint you like one of his F_ _rench_ _girls, don't you Samantha_?" The irritating voice in his head teased.  

 

He nodded pathetically in response, to which question, we'll never know. 

 

"This particular arrangement was made purely for aesthetic. Solidago wouldn't normally go with this style but I added it as my own personal touch." His voice held a proud tone. "If you're more interested in a bouquet with meaning, I can find you an arrangement of orchids." He paused and examined his customer for a moment before continuing, "Orchids were collectables for the rich in the 18th century - they're associated with love, luxury and beauty." Another pause. "The latter seemingly suiting you." He added with a purr and Sam's face flushed red. _Very_ red. _Senpai_ _ga_ _\- Senpai_ _ga_ _yatto_ _kizuitekureta_ _!! Uh,_ _doushiyou_ _?!_  

 

The man chuckled while the Adonis-like other sported a shade of red darker than humanly possible. Sam opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it, then closed it, then opened it... You get the idea. 

 

"Uh, t-th-these are fine, thanks." He managed to stutter out finally and received a nod, a smile still playing on the florist's lips.  

 

"Alright, I'll get these wrapped for you. That'll be $25." He replied as he ducked below the desk and pulled out decorative paper to wrap the flowers in. "Will you grant me your name?" Was added while he rummaged underneath the counter.  

 

When the guy's head popped up, his hair had somehow managed to become more dishevelled than it was originally and Sam couldn't help but wonder if that was how his hair would look when he woke in the morning, or if it would keep that same straight-outta-my-bed style if he ran his hands through it. Jesus, he needed to control his libido. 

 

"Sam." He offered instead of his train of thought, "What about yourself?" He questioned and the man replied with a matter-of-fact tone like he'd just told Sam that it was raining outside or that he had the uncanny resemblance to an actor in some emotionally traumatising T.V series.  

 

"Lucifer." 

 

Sam did a double take. _Hell_ , he did a triple take. "Lucifer?" He challenged incredulously. The man didn't even spare him a glance as he hummed in response and began wrapping the flowers with great care that could only come from years of practice. "As in, my name's Satan, taste my fruit?" _Smooth Sam_.. _Real smooth_.  

 

The ma- Lucifer – chuckled lightly before disclosing, "That's the reason I don't wear a nametag." He looked up, "You do know Lucifer is an angel? The one that loved God the most." He was eyeing Sam now, eager for a reaction.  

 

_Someone's been reading too much Milton_.

 

It seemed Sam had a tendency to freeze up under the man's gaze, those deep blue eyes seem to penetrate – _wow, that is not the most appropriate_ _verb usage –_ his very being, analysing his very essence. It was kinda discomforting. "Yeah, I guess." He mumbled; it was all he could respond with, in fear of saying something stupid, like he always did.  

 

There was a grunt that signified the florist was somewhat sated by his response as dollar bills transferred from one hand to another. There was a brush of skin and Sam shivered at the contact, the other man's skin was dubiously cold.  

 

"Keep the change." Sam stated confidently with an honest smile and was rewarded with one in turn. When his hand stretched out to carefully grab the flowers, the blonde's hand darted out and snatched his wrist. Whether it was the cold of the other's skin or the sudden contact, he wasn't quite sure why his breath hitched in the back of his throat. Eyes met and Satan eyed his Adam's apple fervently as he swallowed loudly.  

 

"Wait." Lucifer demanded in a voice that was surely only meant for the bedroom and Sam could only nod submissively. Satisfied with the response, the blonde turned and slid into the back of the shop, out of sight. Apprehension filled the atmosphere until he returned, holding something delicately that was wrapped in blood red tissue paper. Sam contemplated the item warily until Lucifer held it out to him with a sheepish smile and it was a really weird expression for the guy who looked like he could kill you with a flicka da wrist or take over your body with one simple word. Sam took the offered gift cautiously and when he looked at the florist, his confident demeanour had returned but Sam could see the slight glint of anxiety in his eyes.  

 

Tenderly removing the paper, Sam's mouth fell agape at the sight of a bright, white rose. It practically glowed with purity and when he lifted his gaze to say... _Something_ to Lucifer, his eyes fell upon a face of obvious adoration.  

 

"Uh, I can't accept this Lucifer." He blurted out, timidity showing at the man's expression. "I-I, this isn't-"  

 

A hand in the air cut him off and Lucifer's face relaxed and contorted into a self-assured smile. "Of course you can Sam and you will." He said with conviction and narrowed eyes before adding, "Plus, t'is rude to reject a gift and you wouldn't want to break an old man's heart now, would you?" There was a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips.  

 

It was obvious that Sam could do nothing but concede, so he did as such, gifting the blonde a humble smile. "Thank you Lucifer, sincerely." He ducked his head as he spoke, feeling unworthy of such a beautiful gift. A nod for a response was all he got while the other man started gathering all the paper he'd used to wrap the mother's day gift.  

 

Sam was leaving the cramped shop, narrowly avoiding the difficult daffodil, with a pleasant feeling bubbling in his stomach when a voice chirped up from the back of the shop – where the counter lie. "Feel free to let me know how your mother likes the flowers, Sammy!" It was a request, an invitation and an offer all wrapped in one nonchalant sounding sentence. 

 

It was a date.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed :)  
> This is another story I've had locked away in my notes for ages, unable to finish until now.  
> I procrastinate way too much it's extremely concerning...
> 
> But don't forget to sLAP THAT KUDOS BUTTON IF YOU LIKED IT¡!¡!¡!


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